


Vortex

by OceanFan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Elf John, Gen, John is a Prince, John-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:29:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanFan/pseuds/OceanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Elven prince finds himself to be the target of a dark conspiracy with himself being stranded in a strange world where the mass majority of its dwellers are humans. Creating a new mask to hide behind was not so easy a task, especially when he had so much to learn while simultaneously trying to find a way home again.<br/>In such a case, he is uncertain whether he is lucky or really down in his fortune to find himself rooming with the eccentric Sherlock Holmes, who could tell his activities of the past decade by his mere appearance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter # 1

There was a startling crack of lightning, which shook the quite of the plains of Great Britain as a mass of black swirling vortex materialized into thin air of the wilderness. It seemed to groan as it began to narrow down in size slowly; a fluctuation occurred accompanied by a rippling sound as a figure was thrust out with great force from its center and landed heavily on the ground a few feet from it. All the while the vortex continued to shrink till at last with a final groan it seized to exist and if weren’t for the figure, it would have been as though it was never there at all, for there was not a living body around with a conscience mind to witness such a bizarre phenomenon.

Hours passed by and a light drizzle began before the figure showed any signs of movement. A slight moan escaped before deep blue eyes opened to stare in bewilderment at the surroundings. With conscious effort, the figure managed to lift itself upright into a sitting position. To call him strange would have been an understatement. Having long blonde locks that fell up to his waist, with slightly tanned skin, pointed ears and a lean muscular build, there seemed to be something ethereal about him that left no doubt that he was not what anyone may call as an ordinary human being.

A pained gasp escaped his lips as he tried to rise, clutching his sides; he fell back onto his haunches and tried to regain control. Where am I? Was the first thought to pass the mind as he began to catalogue his surroundings, nothing seemed familiar, he had never been to this part of the middle earth before and where was his brother and the rest of squadron? His eyes widened with horror at the thought of them being captured or worse! And he tried to rise once again ignoring his body’s signals, screaming at him in protest. He fretfully looked around for any signs of disturbance or a clue that may hint as to his location or his comrades’. Feeling frustrated he began to drag himself in one direction all the while praying for his brother and friends to be alright, his head felt heavy and it was as though he was walking under water. He vaguely remembered having suffered a blow to the head that had knocked him out unconscious before he fell, but what happened before that? His memories were all jumbled up and there was a fog in his mind hindering his ability to recall properly. He knew they were up somewhere fighting, his comrades behind him and his brother by his side, it was glorious! Before all hell had broken loose, were they ambushed? That seemed likely, the orcs that they had been ordered to fight by his father were far fewer in number than the original reports and what of the mage? He was nowhere in sight, oh! ...

It was like as though his mind had finally decided to take pity on him and a flood of memories came crashing over, drowning him in realization. He stumbled down onto his knees as the truth of what had happened washed over him. Was this it? He thought would I never be able to see them again? Images of his land, his people began to swim before his eyes, his friends whom he had known his entire life, his brother and father, won’t he ever see them again? Despair, the likes of which he had never allowed himself to feel captured him in its strong holds as tears began to fall through his eyes; The light drizzle had now intensified into steady rain, soaking him to his bones, yet he ignored the cold and the wet, in favour of curling up on his own misery, _Look at me, if Legolas ever saw me like this, he would have a field day_ he thought bitterly to himself. After what felt like hours, his nerves began to settle, _Come now Raziel!_ He scolded himself _Snap out of it! You have had your cry and feeling sorry for your pathetic little self will do you absolute no good!_ He shuddered as the insistent cold finally managed to gain his attention and for the third time since waking up Raziel dragged himself to his feet. It would be so very ridiculous of me to give up now and die after everything that I have been through! ... _It matters not what the prophecy says, matters not what kind of dark magic has been used, and matters not if it takes me hundreds of years! I will get back! I will find a way!_ And with that thought in mind and a new found determination born out of share stubbornness, Raziel Greenleaf, second son of Thranduil marched onto his unknown destiny.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Years passed since the day when the elven prince was thrown out from the vortex and it had taken him years to get used to the strange new land where the sole ruling population was that of the humans. To dress properly in accordance to the norms of the society he had entered was the first thing he had learned, for his own haggard attire had drawn many questioning glances, the answer to which he could not give for he found that the humans of this dimension found magic and elves and dwarves and all other things besides their own selves as a figment of their imagination and a mere part of children’s fairy tale. The language was the second thing that he had learned and it was by far no easy task.

Upon making his vow to find a way home, the prince had marched on forward until he had collapsed due to exhaustion and pain. He probably would have stayed there until he had once again regained consciousness, if not for the miller’s boy who had ran up further along his usual area of play in order to hunt down the mighty beast in the shape of a squirrel that dared climb his tree. The boy had first frozen upon the sight of an unknown figure in strange clothes passed out upon the ground, but being a wise lad that he was, quickly realized that this was something that his father must know and had raced back to the mill as fast as his little feat could go.

The miller calmly heard his son’s tale of a dead woman who lay in the fields and went to the defined place with an axe in one hand to investigate the matter. Upon seeing the body, as his son had pointed out, he came forward and knelt by it. The miller was not a highly educated man, but he had once been a soldier of war and had seen many a dead bodies to last him a life time, hence could distinguish the living from the dead when the case was presented to him, and this person was most definitely from the former category, heavily wounded no doubt but definitely living. He leaned a little closer and swept the long silver gold hair that obscured the stranger’s face and began a general inspection of the numerous wounds upon the person, it was then that he realized that despite the long hairs, the stranger in fact was a man instead of a woman as his son had breathed out. But of course the child could not be faulted for his observation, with his face covered by blood and dirt and strange clothing upon his back and with his very long hair any one would have jumped to that conclusion.

With some difficulty the miller was able to carry the stranger back to his home, where his wife had stood anxiously waiting for her husband after hearing his son’s excited account of his adventure in the woods. With a few words and gesture he relayed to his wife his findings and bid her to call the village doctor for help.

The elf regained consciousness and found himself sore and hurting yet warm and dry, a vast improvement from before. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, he seemed to be in a small room with a door to the left and two windows showings the world of outside in heavy rainfall, and does it always rain in this land? He thought to himself. The room itself was quite modest looking, with a bed in one corner where he lay and two mismatching chairs on the other side. He steadily lifted himself to his elbows with a groan of effort and proceeded to check himself. Someone had removed his tattered remains of a shirt and his bare chest was covered in clean white bandages. When he had been thrown into this word, much of his usual possession such as his bow and quiver and the dagger that he kept upon himself were missing, so at least he had no fear of being robbed of his favorite weaponry. Whoever must have brought him inside must either be very kind or very stupid; after all he could very well be a deranged madman, who might decide to rob them or worse for their foolish act of kindness. He shook his head a little forcefully, this is not how he should be thinking, for he was the one who was helped and was the recipient of this kindness and he would be a very poor guest indeed to call them out on their act of altruism.

Just then the door to the left swung open and a portly woman with mouse brown hair, wearing a plain long skirt and carrying neatly wrapped blankets stepped in. She blinked as she saw him up and awake and said something in a language that directly passed over his head. She did not appear to be a threat, unless she was hiding a sword up her skirt, which was unlikely, and her open friendly smile was genuine and kind. She must have sensed his unfamiliarity with the language as she began speaking again, much slower this time with a lot of hand gestures. He managed to derive her meaning and understood that she was asking about his health. He smiled as an answer to that and tried to convey his gratitude for the hospitality. He is unsure whether she understood him or not but she smiled anyways and gestured him to lie down while she retreated from the room, throwing a parting curious glance in his direction.

A few minutes passed before a stocky blonde man of average height with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache came in, as was with the women he was dressed in plain shirt and trousers, he had the air of a man who is calm and composed, with piercing brown eyes. He took one of the mismatched chairs from the corner and propped himself in front of the elf, he also said something in the language that the woman spoke and the elf slowly shook his head conveying his non-understanding of the speech. The man looked at him carefully with a deep expression and a frown before nodding in understanding and pointed to himself and said ‘Jack Watson’.

**Author's Note:**

> ... yeah, I know, a bit too over dramatic... (-_-)


End file.
